


you say i'm in love, i say i'm a fool

by mlmcowboy



Category: My Own Private Idaho (1991)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Drug Use, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Violence, gay author, lots of pop culture refrences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2019-11-14 13:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlmcowboy/pseuds/mlmcowboy
Summary: Mike Waters is seventeen. It's 1991. He's a junior in high school.Mike Waters has been living too comfortably for too long. Something needs to change.(title from You Say I'm In Love - Banes World)





	1. Chapter 1

Mike Waters is seventeen. His favorite movie is _The Lost Boys,_ his favorite band is _the Cure,_ and his favorite person is Scott Favor.

 

Mike Waters is seventeen. He’s addicted to coke, he’s failing AP Psych, and he’s also pretty sure he’s gay.

 

Okay, about the last three things.

 

He’s not _addicted_ to coke. He just really, really likes it. He can go without it, he can stop thinking about it, and he’s not some freak picking at his skin every time he needs a fix. (Or is that crack? Meth? He wouldn’t know.)

 

He is, though, failing AP Psych. But it’s not because he’s stupid. He’s in AP World Government, AP Lit, and he’s taking Advanced Painting. But something about Psych makes him fall the fuck asleep.

 

Not in a “I’m a hungover high schooler” or “I stayed up too late playing _A Link To The Past”_ way. His brain freaks out and he starts shaking, seizing, and passes out for the next forty five minutes. Someone always ends up waking him up, though. Usually his teacher, giving him a stern look and telling him to “get the hell out of my class, Mike.”

 

Mr. Adams pulls him aside one day, and Mike is ready to do anything to shake the “Reclassified Junior” title he’s about to get slapped with.

 

“I want you to get tested for narcolepsy, Mike. I’ve talked to your, um, guardian, and he says you have no reason to be falling asleep in class every day. This isn’t normal. I’m worried about you.”

 

Mr. Adams gives him a slip of paper with a phone number scrawled on it. Mike already knows he can’t afford it. He shoves it into his jacket pocket and heads for Scott’s car. They both have free period seventh block.

 

Oh, yeah. Mike is pretty sure he’s gay.

If there’s such a thing as selective homosexuality, that’s what Mike has. Because, if he’s being honest with himself, he’s really only gay for one dude. And yeah, like, Brad Pitt is hot as shit too, but everyone thinks that. Even Scott, who is _not_ gay, selective or otherwise.

 

Scott Favor. Scott. Fucking. Favor.

 

The heir apparent is leaning up against his car, smoking a cigarette and looking like the epitome of rich assholes who fuck people over. He hasn’t fucked Mike over, though. Not yet, at least. But he’s also sporting a shiny black eye, courtesy of Gary, who had come back empty handed and bleeding after Scott had hooked him up with a new dealer. Turns out, the dealer was expecting twice what Scott had told Gary he’d need, and was pretty fucking pissed. Scott’s shit in a fight. Mike had to tape his cheek up.

 

“Mike!” Scott calls, smiling widely. Mike flushes.

 

“Hey, dude. How’s your eye?”

 

“Time heals all wounds, Mikey. You hungry?” Scott opens the car door and slides in.

 

“I could go for a burger,” Mike says, clicking his seatbelt into place. Scott’s nose wrinkles.

 

“Too greasy. Chinese?”

 

Mike just nods, fiddling with the radio. A Beatles’ song filters through the speakers, and Scott starts to hum along, so Mike doesn’t change it. The car is warm. It smells like vanilla and the tiniesthint of weed. Scott’s voice is deep and lovely. Mike could fall asleep right here. Not in the AP Psych way, but because he feels safe, happy, and loved. Even if none of that is true, Scott’s hand has found its to Mike wrist, and he’s rubbing circles on the skin there.

 

_I hope this road never ends. I hope it goes all the way around the world._

__

“Narcolepsy?” Scott says. He’s abandoned his wonton soup to stare at Mike angrily.

 

“That’s what uh, that’s what Adams said.” Mike, though, shoves another piece of chicken in his mouth. He fixes his eyes on Scott’s shirt buttons.

 

“You’re not fucking narcoleptic, Mike.”

 

“Are you a doctor?”

 

Scott exhales too loud through his nose and takes an angry sip of his coffee.

 

_Who orders coffee at a Chinese restaurant?_

 

When he sets the cup back down, it hits the edge of his spoon and makes a terrible sound. Mike pretends to not flinch. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I don’t have to be a doctor to know _that."_

 

“It’s not like I’m- it’s not a disease. There’s nothing wrong with me, narcolepsy or not.”

 

Maybe now would be a good time to bring up the gay thing. _That’s_ something wrong with Mike, something definitive, something that he knows is true. Kind of. Maybe. _Answer pending._

 

Scott’s looking at him still. He hasn’t said anything else. He sighs, shoulders slumping. He kicks Mike’s ankle under the table, mumbling something that sounds like _what the fuck is wrong with me?_

 

Once they leave, Scott’s mood has raised a little bit and he’s talking about Mike coming over.

 

“I can help you with Psych homework. It’ll be fun.”

 

“Thanks man but uh, I gotta-”

_-bite my hand while watching The Outsiders for the eighth time-_

“-help my brother clean up the apartment. The dudes from the state are coming by next week.”

 

That’s not a lie. But their place never really needs cleaning up, and Dick’s probably done all of it already.

 

“Oh. Well, your loss, I guess. Still need a ride home?”

 

“No. I’ll just get in my car, that I totally have and is right here and you’ve seen before.”

 

“Shut up, smart ass. Get in.” Scott’s smiling again. Even with his swollen eye, he looks radiant.

 

_That’s not fair._


	2. Chapter 2

“I know, I know. Everything’s going to be okay.”

 

_Mom? Where are we?_

 

_Mom?_

 

_I miss you._

 

_Mom!_

 

Mike wakes up sweating. Somewhere in the apartment, Dick is getting ready for work. Mike can hear the faint clanging of him making breakfast.

 

If it wasn’t Saturday, Mike would get up and join him. He opts to snuggle further into his covers instead. He won’t fall back asleep, but the warmth is nice. He doesn’t dream about his mom often, and when he does, it’s never… good. They’re always back on the farm, everything is always slow, and weird, and it makes Mike sick to his stomach for reasons he chooses to not acknowledge.

 

Dick knocks on his door, and Mike slides his eyes shut.

 

“Hey, Mikey. I’m headed out. There’s breakfast in the fridge.”

 

The door clicks shut again, and there’s a darkness edging at Mike’s brain.

 

_Maybe I will try to get more sleep._

 

He doesn’t want to, though.

 

His arms won’t stop shaking, and his core is seizing like he’s just done fifty sit ups. His eyes are rolling back into his head. He doesn’t feel in control of his own body. The feeling is familiar.

 

_What’s happening to-_  

__

 

“Mike!”  

 

_Scott Favor is straddling me._

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mike slurs, hands coming up to push at Scott’s chest.

 

Scott laughs and takes a hold of Mike’s wrists, pinning them above his head. Mike wills all the blood in his body to rush to his face. Scott leans in, close, way too close. Mike can smell the sharp tang of his über expensive cologne.

 

“I couldn’t let you waste the whole day away, could I?

 

Mike glares at him, silently calling him on his bullshit. Scott looks away.

 

"You weren’t answering my calls. Thought I’d make sure you’re okay.”

 

There’s a delicate concern in his voice, the smile turning up the corners of his mouth not doing much to hide it. His eyes are soft.

 

Mike, on the other hand, is half hard and getting more so by the second. Scott hops off and Mike rolls over, burying his face into his pillow and pretending he’s not trying to hide his erection.

 

Mike does a lot of fucking pretending, doesn't he?

 

A shirtless Patrick Swayze stares at him from the wall. It's a  _Dirty Dancing_ poster. It's tasteful. It doesn't mean anything.

 

“Have you eaten yet?” Scott asks, pulling Mike from his thoughts. 

 

“Why are you always trying to feed me?”

 

It’s _supposed_ to be a joke, a jab at Scott’s mother-henning and his obsession with that Chinese restaurant. But Scott kind of gestures around the room, probably would go around and point out individual things that make it obvious how poor Mike is if he was that much of a dick. He is, sometimes. Never to Mike, though.

 

This, though. This is a little too close. Mike sits up and swings his legs over the side of his bed.

 

“Fuck you,” he spits.

 

Scott steps towards him, already on the defense.

 

“My brother doesn’t work two jobs so that you can come in here and say that he's not doing enough."

 

Scott opens his mouth to argue, but Mike doesn't let him. His face is red-hot with embarrassment, with anger at Scott's Robin Hood bullshit. 

 

"Why don’t you go back to your dad’s house and mope about how unfair it is that you have money? Why don’t you get the fuck out of my house and come back when you learn some basic fucking decency?”

 

“You don’t mean that,” Scotts says. His voice is hollow. Mike thinks if he were normal, he'd be crying. 

 

And Mike doesn’t mean it, which makes everything so much worse.

 

“I meant the first part, at least. Fuck you.”

 

Scott nods. He holds out his hand, and Mike takes it, despite his anger, despite what he said. He hoists himself up from the bed. It's weird to yell sitting down. 

 

“Let me buy you a record?”

 

“You really know how to seduce a boy, don’t you?” He’s slipping on his orange jacket. Scott chuckles.

 

_You must. You’ve gotten me this far. I’d dare you to say that you haven’t been trying._

 __

 

The record store is nearly empty, two or three patrons lazily flicking through vinyls.

 

“The Cure?” Scott asks. He’s already headed over the box labeled “C.”

 

Mike hates that he knows him so well.

“Scotty, you big stud! And hey, it’s Mikey the-”

 

“Gary, we’re in public. Lower your voice, dude,” Scott warns, though he’s grinning.

 

It’s weird, that they’re acting like this. Scott’s eye is still purple and swollen, Gary’s knuckles still bruised.

 

(Mike wonders, briefly, if the imprint of Scott’s cross necklace is still there. Mike had kissed the wound lightly before bandaging it. Scott had looked at him like he’d hung the moon.)

 

“-exchange student, Carmela.”

 

Gary suddenly has a girl on his arm. Her hair is thick, dark. Her face is delicate and her is English broken.

 

“Nice to uh, meet you boys.”

 

Scott’s staring at her, eyes bright and full of wonder. The same face he'd made when Mike had leaned over and pressed his mouth the the cross imprint on Scott's chest. Mike feels sick to his stomach.

 

They make small talk. Carmela is Gary’s neighbor, as well as her personal around-the-school guide. She’s just here for the rest of the semester and the summer. She goes back to Italy in the fall.

 

“Italy, huh? Yeah, my mom- she always wanted to go to Italy.”

 

Scott inhales too sharply for it to be natural. He plucks the vinyl out of Mike’s hand and stalks away to pay for it.

 

Carmela gives Mike a curious look. He shrugs.

 

“You have no idea how much of a cockblock absent mom talk is, Mike,” Scott says once they’re back in the car. Sometimes it feels like they’re always in his car.

 

“I don’t think her English is nuanced enough to pick up on the implication, dude.”

 

Scott just rolls his eyes and hooks a sharp left. He’s taking the long way back to the apartment. Mike can’t decide if that’s good or bad.

 

To be perfectly honest, Mike usually can’t tell if what Scott is doing is good or bad. He’s hard to read. He’s always hiding shit behind that glinting smile, that perfect hair, that voice Mike could get drunk on…

 

“Mike? What do you think?”

 

_Shit._

 

“What’d you ask?”

 

Scott’s laugh is dry.

 

“Do you think I have a chance with Carmela?”

 

Mike wants to say _no. She’s too good for you, and you know it. She’s sweet, and caring, and beautiful. You’re mean, and insensitive, and manipulative. You don’t deserve her. You’d break her._

 

But he doesn’t.

 

“Probably. You’re good-looking enough.”

 

Scott gives a fake gasp of offense.

 

“Are you saying you’re only interested in me for my looks? Michael, I am _hurt._ ”

 

They laugh, wild and loud. The road ahead of them feels infinite. The world feels as big as the inside of Scott’s Porsche. Nothing has ever felt as good and as natural as _this._ Not breathing or eating or doing coke or falling asleep in class. Just them, together.

 

_Nothing could get in the way of this. I won’t let it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oppress scott favor in 2019!
> 
> y'all don't even KNOW the scene that i have Brewing oh i'm so excited. 
> 
> leave comments and kudos, feedback is always appreciated!!!


	3. Chapter 3

Mike needs to get his shit sorted out. Immediately.

 

Scott Favor is _not_ in love with him. Scott Favor will _never_ be in love with him. Because Scott Favor is painfully, insufferably _straight._

 

Even so, Mike can’t help but read into every interaction they have. How Scott will lean in too close and fill Mike’s senses with cigarette smoke and whatever cologne he’s wearing that day. How Scott will reach over and take Mike's hand, or sing an arm around his waist, how he'll find any excuse to touch Mike. Mike will spend hours connecting nonexistent dots, threading yarn across the pin-board of his mind from conversation to conversation, wondering what the fuck it all means.

 

Nothing. It means nothing.

 

Mike slams his head against his pillow. He really wants some coke, but he’s all out of money, and he doesn’t feel like talking to Scott. He especially doesn’t feel like having Scott give him that _look,_ the one where his eyes flash with pity that he barely covers up with his signature, goofy smile.

 

_Ugh._

 

Dick knocks on his door. Mike hums, and looks around for something to pretend to do. He picks up a book. _Catcher in the Rye._ It’s Scott’s. Of course.

 

“Hey, Mikey. I’m headed to work, but I was thinking of grabbing some dinner on my way home. Chinese?”

 

Mike’s stomach lurches.

 

“What about burgers? McDonald’s?”

 

“Whatever you say, dude. See you tonight.”

 

“Mm. See ya.”

 

Mike hasn’t seen or talked to Scott since the day at the record store. Not unless you count school, which Mike doesn’t. Scott's been spending his free time wooing Carmela, and, much to Mike’s dismay, it’s been working. They’re doing great. They’re the cutest couple in school. They’re making Mike want to hurl.

 

Maybe Mike should call him up. Maybe he should tell him everything that he’s feeling.

 

_Hey, dude, I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, but I’m still stupidly in love with you. I have dreams about kissing you while_ Lovesong _plays. Wanna score some coke?_

 

Yeah. Never mind.

 

Mike digs around for the remote and switches on the T.V. They’re playing Simpson reruns. He pulls his blanket over himself. He should get some sleep. Good, real, not sleep. He should also tell Dick about maybe having narcolepsy. He should also get over Scott. He should do a lot of things, actually. 

 

For now, though, he’s going to sleep. All his worries will still be there when he wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN SO LONG AND I'M SO SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT. 
> 
> i still love mopi i'm just busy and hyperfixating on other things oof
> 
> next chapter will be longer! i promise!
> 
> check out my anderperry and bartloki stuff too!
> 
> and if you'd like, i also have a mopi playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/the.emotional/playlist/7N0U3jwjBjDBbBdGcWZtib?si=xlC2WDTdQc6yjoienXQWGA


	4. Chapter 4

Mike wakes up to someone pounding at the door.

 

“Mikey! Open up!”

 

_No. Abso-fucking-lutely not._

 

“Coming!”

 

_I’m spineless._

 

Mike swings the door to the apartment open, and Scott’s standing there, looking out of breath and smiling wide. He also looks gorgeous, but that’s pretty normal.

 

“Mikey. We need to talk.”

 

That dumb smile won’t leave his face.

 

“About what?”

 

Scott seems too close now, and Mike is getting dizzy. He should push him away, or say something, or head to his room so they can watch bad T.V. and get high. He's about to ask Scott if he wants to watch  _Halloween_ again, but then Scott leans in and _fucking kisses him._

 

It’s _perfect._  It’s soft and gentle and Scott tastes like vanilla and bourbon. It’s perfect. Except it’s  _not._ Because-

 

“Aren’t you with Carmela?” Mike asks between kisses. He doesn’t have the will power to push Scott all the way off. Scott breaks away anyways, though. He’s still smiling.

 

“C’mon, Mikey. Don’t be like that.” Scott’s voice is sweet as syrup, and Mike’s head spins with a sugar rush.

 

_You know I’m not strong enough to do this. You bastard._

 

“Be like what?”

 

“It’s  _always_ been you. You know that. I’m yours. Completely and utterly _yours."_

 

_You’re so fucking dramatic._

 

The thing is, Mike wants to believe him. He wants to smile softly and lean back in and kiss Scott until they’re both breathless. He wants to get a million cavities. Because Mike is _completely and utterly_ in love with Scott Favor, and it’s probably going to end up killing him when he has to let that go.

 

He probably has to let that go like, right now.

 

“You can’t do this to Carmela, man. She’s too nice. _Scott.”_

 

Scott’s kissing the space behind Mike’s ear, and a little voice in his head is saying _why the fuck are you trying to get rid of this?_

 

_Because I’m not going to let Scott fuck over anyone else, you dick. Even if that means fucking myself over in the process._

 

Mike plants two hands on Scott’s chest and pushes, hard. They look at each other for a beat. The air between them is thick with rising anger and an impending argument.

 

“Do you not want this? Is that it? Have I been misreading the signs you’ve been giving me since the _seventh fucking grade?"_

 

Mike swallows.

 

_It hasn’t been that long. I haven’t even thought about Scott like that up until recently, right? Right? Shit._

 

“No, Scott, it’s just- you have a _girlfriend._ You’re not even gay, dude. Isn’t that what _you’ve_ been telling _me_ since middle school?”

 

“I don’t have to be- I mean- I can like both.”

 

Mike looks at Scott with wide eyes. Scott looks at the floor.

 

“Just because you might ‘like both’ doesn’t mean you can cheat on Carmela.” Mike does air quotes. He knows the word, but he doesn’t use it. Scott doesn’t get to use an identity to justify his bullshit.

 

“What do you want me to do? Break up with her? Live in scrutiny? Tarnish my father’s name?”

 

 

"I want you to stop fucking pretending," Mike bites back. He doesn't have all the answers, and it's so goddamn unfair of Scott to expect him to. He's just a kid. They're both just _kids._

“Fuck you, Mike.”

 

God, that one hurts _._

 

"Pretending? Who the fuck are you to tell me to stop pretending?" Scott continues when Mike doesn't say anything. What the fuck is he even supposed to say?

 

 

"Hey, that's not fair-"

 

"Oh, but it's fair for you to expect me to ruin my entire life just for you? Just because  _you_ told me to?"

 

Mike feels a sick churning in his stomach. He wants to take it all back, to apologize and have them make up and for everything to go back to normal. The truth is, he wants Scott all to himself. Every inch of his stupid, perfect body, every laugh, every smile. He wants all of Scott.

 

Mike is, for the first time, utterly embarrassed at how pathetic his infatuation is.

 

“I can’t stand you sometimes, Scott.”

 

Mike closes his eyes. He can’t fall asleep now. No matter how nauseous the look on Scott’s face is making him, Mike needs to stay awake for once in his life.  

 

“I think I should go," Scott says. His voice is hollow, cold.

 

“Yeah,” Mike says. “Yeah, I think you should.”

 

As Scott leaves, Mike can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Not only because he just lost his best friend, but there’s something… else. Like Scott isn't telling him something. He probably isn't. They use to tell each other everything. 

 

Whatever. It’ll be fine. Mike is going to be _fine._  

 

_I wish I wasn’t such a fucking loser._   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :0
> 
> our story isn't over yet lads.
> 
> hope you enjoyed The Scene (it's official title in my docs is "THE scene like the BIG one babey")
> 
> as always, oppress scott favor, and mike deserves better, as does carmela.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike runs into a little trouble. Trigger warning for q slur (in a non derogatory way), violence, implied homophobia, and drug mention.

Sometimes it seems like all Mike ever does is wake up.

 

Except this time, he doesn’t remember falling asleep.

 

Except this time, there’s the taste of blood in his mouth.

 

Except this time, Mr. Adams is standing over him and frantically trying to get him to _wake up._

 

“What the fuck?” He goes to stand. Blood is thick and hot on his tongue, Mr. Adams pushes him back down. It hurts. He hurts, all over. _Why is he on the fucking ground?_

 

The nurse looks him over. His nose is probably broken, his ribs are bruised and his knuckles and knees are skinned.

 

Gary and Digger jumped him on the way to Psych. He doesn’t remember much of it, just flashes of a knee to his groin, a boot to his chest, a fist to his face. Mike figures Scott had something to do with it. Mike is terrified that Scott had something to do with it.

 

Dick comes and picks him up, muttering angrily under his breath the whole way home. Maybe Mike should just tell him why they did it, get the whole thing over with.

 

What’s the worst that could happen? What, is his brother gonna beat him up, too? (Mike winces at the possibility.)

 

“Dick, I-“

 

“Little mother _fuckers._ Beating up on my fucking brother, for no good goddamn reason, not even gonna get in trouble. It’s fucking _bullshit,_ it’s all-“

 

“It wasn’t for no reason.”

 

Dick turns his head to look at Mike. He’s angry, angrier than Mike has ever seen him. Angrier than when they get letters from Mom, angrier than when he found all the coke in Mike’s underwear drawer.

 

“Give me one good fucking reason some punks should be beating up my baby brother,” Dick spits, and Mike flinches. Of course. Cause he’s a fucking coward.

 

“Well, they probably did it cause- you know, I- I’m… gay,” Mike finishes lamely. Dick clicks his teeth.

 

“That’s not a fucking _reason,_  Mikey. That’s called being a bigot. That’s no fucking _excuse."_

 

They don’t talk the rest of the way home. Mike feels sick. All he wants to do is lay down and fuck off from the rest of the world for awhile. Before he can bury himself in his mattress, Dick steers him into the bathroom.

 

He silently wraps Mike’s knuckles, bandages his nose, cleans up the blood, redoes all of the work the nurse did. He pokes at Mike’s ribs to make sure nothing’s broken. It hurts, but he’ll be okay with some rest. Physically fine, at least. Mike goes to slide off the counter, but Dick stops him.

 

“You know I don’t care that you’re queer, right?”

 

“Gay. I’m gay.” Dick winces.

 

“Right, sorry. But seriously, Mikey. You’re still my baby brother, no matter what. And if those guys really beat you up for being gay, I’m gonna find ‘em and knock their fucking teeth in.”

 

Mike smiles, and Dick smiles back.

 

“Any chance those guys are just dicks, though?” Dick asks. Mike considers it.

 

“Maybe. I think I owe Digger money.”

 

Dick hums a little and motions for Mike to get off the counter. Mike goes to bound up the stairs as quickly as he can, but his ribs scream in protest. He opts to hobble up the stairs instead. He carefully lowers himself onto his bed. He finds that his brain is surprisingly empty and blank. He flips on his T.V. and settles in. He’s not tired, per se. But he doesn’t have the energy to think right now. He doesn’t have to think when he sleeps. So, he closes his eyes.

 

It’s nice, choosing to go to sleep. He could get used to it.

 

__

 

“I _have_ to go to school.”

 

Dick glares at Mike from over a bowl of cereal. He shouldn’t even be home. His shift starts at six on Thursdays. It’s seven. School starts in thirty minutes.

 

“You have the day off. Take advantage of it, Mikey. You have A’s and B’s in all your classes, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

 

Mike put his head in his hands. Weirdly enough, he feels like he can hide from everyone better at school. The building is huge, they all have places to be, there’s teachers everywhere. His apartment is small and most of the time it’s just him. He’s more vulnerable here.

 

“You missing work then?”

 

Dick smiles, a little sad.

 

“We can’t afford that, bud. Told them I’d be an hour late. Family troubles. I gotta leave now, though.”

 

He stands up, puts his bowl in the sink. Mike feels like screaming. He slips on his coat, ruffles his brother's hair. Mike feels like vomiting. The door closes.

 

“Fuck,” Mike says to the empty house.

 

He doesn’t do much all day. He watches some T.V., pops in _Lost Boys_ but doesn’t pay attention, smokes the last of his weed. He looks out the window every ten minutes, half expecting Scott to be there, half expecting Gary and Digger to show up for round two.

 

He wishes Scott would come by, admit that he sicked two of _their_ friends on him just because he was pissed. Just because he was pissed that Mike didn’t want to fuck a guy who had a girlfriend. (Had being the operative word. Apparently, Scott had dumped Carmela a few days after the whole _incident.)_  

 

There’s a knock at the door. He peaks through the blinds. _Speak of the devil, and she will appear._

 

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Mike asks Carmela when he opens the door. She gives him a small smile.

 

“I could say the same for you,” she quips back. Mike has always loved her voice, her throaty accent that comes through with every word. If he weren’t gay, he’d probably be head over heels.

 

Friends is good enough for him, though. He hopes they can be friends.

 

“So, what’s up?”

 

“May I come in?”

 

He nods, and waves her in. He’s a little embarrassed, seeing as she’s used to Scott’s huge ass mansion. They sit down on the old couch. It groans.

 

“I know my digs aren’t really what you’re used to, with Scott and all. I’m sorry to hear about that, by the way.”

 

“Oh, no. He never uh, took me to his house. Said his father wouldn’t… like me.”

 

She looks  _sad,_ and they sit in a mutually upset silence for a bit. She looks up at him through tear dropped lashes.

 

“You and Scott are friends, yes?”

 

Mike shrugs.

 

“We were. He doesn’t seem to have much time for me anymore.”

 

“Oh, Mike,” she says softly, and suddenly he’s _very_ uncomfortable.

 

“I don’t know what Scott told you, but-“

 

“He didn’t have to tell me. I’m not blind.”

 

“He talked about you… all the time. Every day. _Only person in the world who understands me,_ he’d say. I would be hurt if I didn’t know the truth.”

 

“And what’s the truth?” He wants it to sound bitter, mean. But it comes out scared.

 

“That you are.”

 

Mike closes his eyes.

 

“Scott is… weird. Eccentric. You and him fit perfect.”

 

He snorts. “I’m weird and eccentric?”

 

_“No._ You’re calm. Kind. Like… a sunrise. Familiar.”

 

“That’s real nice of you, Carmela,” he chokes out. No one’s ever this sweet to him. Not even Scott. Especially not Scott.

 

“Talk to him, Mike. I think he’s missing you.”

 

She stands up, and so does he. She wraps him a hug, and he lets out a choked little sob. She pats his back.

 

“Goodbye, Mike. See you later?”

 

He nods, and she’s gone.

 

“Just talking” to Scott has never been easy. Everything with him is like some fucking game, he can never just say what he feels.

 

_Except when he did. And I turned him away._

 

Mike was never hoping for a happy ending to… well, any part of his life.

 

But that’s not to say he doesn’t fucking deserve it.

 

So, he’ll talk to Scott. He’ll finally get some fucking _closure,_ finally feel like something in his life makes sense.

 

He watches the clock tick, counting down the minutes until school lets out. It’s not a guarantee that Scott will be home just because school is over, but Mike is nothing if not hopeful.

 

He picks up the home phone. Deep breath. Dials.

 

“Hello. Is Scott there? This is Mike Waters.”

 

_Click._

 

“Mikey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to say something. 
> 
> i struggled with this chapter a little bit. i hate the trope of gay characters getting assaulted as a means to show the struggle they go through. that’s why i’m going to clarify (minor spoiler) gary and digger did not beat up mike because he’s gay. mike jumps to this conclusion because he has a lot of internalized issues in regards to his sexuality. i know this spoils the ~ mystery ~ of this chapter a bit, but it’s more important to me to send a message that you don’t have to assault gay characters just for being gay, that violence isn’t all we deal with. mike is in deep with loads of things like drugs and just being associated with scott. there’s plenty of reasons someone might want to beat him up. please don’t think i’m trying to write torture porn or exploit oppression for shock value. that is not the intention with this chapter and i hope that’s clear. 
> 
> anyways. 
> 
> whoever wanted more carmela content, i hope this is good enough. her and mike would be great friends, scott just sucks. 
> 
> till next time.


	6. Chapter 6

 

In the end, it's a lot easier than Mike thought it would be. 

 

Scott says he's not sure he's ready to be in a relationship with a guy. Mike says they don't have to label anything. Scott says he's coming over. Mike says  _I love you,_ and Scott says  _I think I love you, too._

 

Mike decides to take things slow. They hold hands while they watch a movie, but they don't start making out when they get bored of it. They sleep in the same bed when Scott stays the night, but they keep their clothes on. When Mike finally,  _finally_ lets Scott kiss him again, they keep it quick and clean and not so heated. Scott complains it's like Mike is trying to kill him. Mike smiles and says,  _so what if I am?_

 

Scott spends a very long time being angry about Mike getting beat up. Gary and Digger don't come back to school after their suspension is up, so nobody gets a chance to ask why they did it. But Mike hears from a friend of a friend of a dealer that Mike did, in fact, owe Digger about seventy-five bucks, and he'd been dodging the payment for about two weeks. Mike doesn't remember Digger ever reminding him about it. Scott is still pretty angry, though. He keeps a knife on him for about two weeks just in case. 

 

Mike spends a lot of time with Carmela. She's a great friend, a great  _person_ overall. She's funny and vibrant and she's really good at ski-ball. She teaches Mike some Italian, and laughs at his accent. She starts dating a girl in her Journalism class. They go on double dates with Mike and Scott, and it should be awkward, but it isn't. Mike loves Carmela with all of his heart. She loves him back just the same. 

 

Mike starts passing AP Psych. Scott stops insisting he knows all there is to know about everything. 

 

When Mike tells Dick about him and Scott, Dick just smiles and nods like he knew this was coming. Maybe everyone knew this was coming. Maybe everyone has been watching them dance around each other for years, waiting for them to fall into each other and realize it's all been right there in front of them this whole time. It's funny to think about that. To think that there was a point in time where they didn't know what was going on, but everyone else did. Because now it seems like it's the other way around. 

 

This girl in Mike's painting class slides up next to him one day. He thinks her name is Beth.

 

"You're friends with Scott Favor, right?"

 

Mike almost laughs. He nods instead.

 

"Great! Do you think you could get him to talk to me?"

 

"Oh, um, I think- I think he's seeing someone right now."

 

Beth frowns and goes back to her painting.

 

Scott tells him that a guy came up to him during lunch to see if Mike was free next Saturday. Scott told him to fuck off.

 

"I never took you as the jealous type," Mike says casually. That keeps Scott busy the whole ride home. 

 

Despite everything, they're still kids. They're still stupid and naïve and they fight too much and they always go to bed angry. When Scott asks Mike to stop doing coke, Mike doesn't talk to him for three days. When Mike insists that Scott bring him to meet his father at least once, Scott leaves him stranded at the mall and Mike has to call Carmela for a ride home. 

 

Because Scott Favor is still an asshole, and Mike Waters still has a soft heart. They are seventeen and drunk on first love and they have a million feelings and nowhere to put them. What do you do with that? Where do you go with that?

 

Here's what they do: they argue and yell and work at it. They act too mature for their age and too young for it, too. They sit down and fix each other, they put each other back together messily and poorly. Scott's all sharp around the edges and Mike melts into nothing too often for it to be normal, for him to be  _okay._ And they figure that out, too. That they're not okay. Mike has a mountain of childhood trauma to work through. Scott has loads of emotional neglect and daddy issues to get over. They pick up on each little habit, each little telltale sign of impending breakdown. 

 

Mike knows to check in when Scott starts skipping meals and wearing long sleeves in the summer heat. Scott knows to start asking questions when Mike misses school and ditches him for drugs. They don't always make things better, they're still a little selfish sometimes, they still scream when they shouldn't and say mean things and ask all the wrong questions. 

 

Maybe they don't deserve this. Maybe Mike could do better, or Scott shouldn't get as much love as he does. Sometimes it feels like they took a wrong turn somewhere and it was supposed to end on a much sadder note. 

 

Because isn't that usually how it goes? The lover leaves, the boy cries, the lights go out even though the story isn't over yet. Someone dies or everyone forget their lines or the curtain closes before the couple makes up. 

 

But this time, more things go right than wrong, more words get said than get left unsaid. Not everything works out, but most of it does. 

 

Mike and Scott spend the summer taking Carmela and her girlfriend Marilyn around to all of their favorite spots (and not thinking about her leaving). They spend it getting drunk on wine coolers and making out to the buzz of cicadas. They go swimming and dunk each other at every opportunity. They lick melting ice cream from each other's hands and get popsicle all over their mouths. They act like kids, like children, they act their age for once. When Scott turns eighteen in July, they spend the night in a tent somewhere outside of the city. Scott tells Mike that he loves him for the first time, and Mike only cries a little bit. 

 

School is set to start in a week when Scott brings it up. 

 

"Where are you going? After graduation?"

 

He's trying to sound casual about it, and he's failing miserably. 

 

"I'll probably get a full ride somewhere. My grades speak for themselves," Mike teases. That's the only way he's going to college, and they both know it. 

 

"Oh, cool. Yeah, I think my dad wants to send me to Stanford."

 

"Hm. California's a long way from home," Mike says absently. He's tracing the muscles in Scott's stomach with his finger.

 

Mike knows that Scott is worried that Mike's going to forget about him, that he's going to find someone better or get bored and move on. Mike is very adamant that he won't. It's an argument they've been having all summer. 

 

"Would you marry me?"

 

"What?"

 

"If we could, would you- would you marry me?"

 

Mike wants to say no. He wants to act like he hasn't thought about it, hasn't dreamed about it. Like he hasn't picked out his fucking tux in his head.

 

"No," Mike says. Scott's face falls.

 

"And you wouldn't marry me. That's not us."

 

Because Mike  _has_ planned their wedding down to every last detail, but that doesn't mean he actually wants it like that. He can't see Scott standing at the end of the aisle, all of their family and friends witness to their everlasting commitment, a goddamn organ playing the wedding march. 

 

He's much more content with the future he knows he's getting. Where he and Scott travel around and break up and get back together and grow old and bitter and mean together. The one where they live in the same apartment, the same house, even when they're pretending to hate each other. Where they sleep in the same bed unless one of them is feeling particularly dramatic. 

 

Scott doesn't say anything, and Mike knows that they'll end up fighting over it later. But he's okay with that. Because here, in the summer heat, with Scott's arm around him and his hands splayed over Scott's bare skin, he's okay with wherever his life is going to go from here. As long as Scott is with him. It's cheesy, he knows, but it's true.

 

Mike Waters is seventeen. He's in love with Scott Favor, he's set to be his class's valedictorian, and he finally got his driver's license. 

 

Mike Waters is seventeen, and he's gotten close enough to a happy ending as he ever will. And that's just fine by him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. so. in my defense. i had a crazy fucking summer.
> 
> i hope this ending is good enough and makes up for my absence. 
> 
> scott favor is still a Bastard but mike is too whipped to care. carmela remains the coolest person ever. 
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated. come yell at me on tumblr @jesseeisenbergegot or on twitter @homopoets. mwah!!!


End file.
